


Hotter Than July

by StarMaamMke



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fourth of July, Idiots in Love, stevie wonder and love, summertime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-06 10:11:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14639663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarMaamMke/pseuds/StarMaamMke
Summary: Each chapter features a different song by Stevie Wonder. The Byers family is throwing a barbecue, and Hopper's resolve is crumbling.





	1. For Once in My Life

_ For once in my life I have someone who needs me _

_ Someone I’ve needed so long _

_ For once unafraid I can go where life leads me  _

_ Somehow I know I’ll be strong _

_ For once I can touch, what my heart used to dream of _

_ Long before I knew _

_ Oh someone warm like you… _

Jim Hopper smiled as he heard the music floating through the open window as he and El walked up the driveway to Joyce Byers’ front door. It was coming from the kitchen, and he could make out Joyce’s slightly off-key warblings harmonizing with Stevie Wonder’s smoother stylings. It gladdened his heart to hear evidence of a happy, carefree Joyce. The past few months had been touch-and-go after the events of last November, but he and El had been a steadfast touchstone for Joyce and her boys, and they had been the same in turn - seeing to El’s spotty, nearly non-existent education and social-emotional needs with patience and love. 

Love. That was a word that was being bandied about the Hopper residence a lot lately. El had taken to assuring Jim of hers for him, once the concept had been explained to her, and on that same token, she had been mercilessly badgering him about his so-called love for Joyce. It wasn’t the same love El had for him or him for her, the clever girl had deduced. It was more like what Mike felt for El, and vice-versa, an accusation that Jim vehemently denied. 

“Knock-knock!” Jim announced as he and El stepped through the unlocked door. 

“I’m in the kitchen and the boys are setting up the grill in the backyard!” Joyce called. “El you can go around back if you like, Mike is already here.” El didn’t have to be told twice, she turned and exited through the front door in a haste.

Jim cleared his throat as he approached the kitchen. “Hey, Joyce, we talked about you leaving the door unlocked.”

Joyce stepped into view, her arms crossed under her chest. “Honestly, Hop, I knew you were coming.”

The retort died in his throat as the tiny woman before him came into full focus. Her tank-top was bright blue and low-cut, her crossed arms giving him a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage and she was wearing…

“Shorts.”

“Huh?” Joyce wrinkled her nose and dropped her arms as she stared up at Jim with an open mouth. His mind felt fuzzy and his throat constricted as he snapped his eyes back from the denim cut-offs that fell mid-thigh, to her confused brown eyes.

“Life is too short to argue about doors,” he covered with a weak grin. 

It stood to reason that she owned at least one pair or shorts. Southern Indiana summers were brutal and just because she was a mother or two, it didn’t mean that the only bottoms in her wardrobe were those old, baggy jeans that were probably two sizes too big for her… a woman had the right to be comfortable, right?

 

The last time he remembered seeing her in shorts, they had been teenagers tearing around the lake in his silver GTO, her ankles crossed as she propped her bare feet on the dashboard (despite his weak protestations that the car was brand new), and one arm sticking out of the passenger side window, her hand dancing along with the breeze that blew her long auburn hair about. Her hair had been so long that summer; unfashionably curly, thick thick with frizz and always in his personal space when he would wake up after a stolen night when their parents were none the wiser.

 

“Terrible hair,” he had complained, wholly unconvincingly as he waved a hand in front of his face to combat the wild strands that whipped into his face as they cruised along with the windows open. 

 

Joyce merely snorted her unladylike snort, uncrossing and crossing her ankles, which brought his attention to her long, bare, muscular limbs. “I’ll chop it all off if you hate it so much.”

 

“See if I care,” he shot back, though he would’ve cared very much. 

 

It had been one of the last purely happy moments of their relationship. A month later he was drafted, and six months after that he found out from Benny that her on-again, off-again with Lonnie Byers was definitely on-again in a big way. He supposed it was his fault for not writing back. When his mother sent the newspaper article with Joyce’s wedding photo, he noticed that her hair was cut into a sleek little bob. 

 

Her hair was getting long again, and it appeared to have the same love-hate relationship with humidity; bounteous, frizzy and arranged on the top of her head in a messy bun. She was an absolute, and Jim was utterly floored by how much she resembled the laughing, carefree girl he once knew. 

“I wasn’t planning on arguing about doors, but if you want to have a go…” Her voice trailed off, and the corners of her eyes crinkled as she flashed him an almost-shy, mischievous grin. Jim felt an intense heat creep up his neck, burning the tips of his ears as he fixated on her choice of wording. Having a go, yes God, please.

 

He masked his discomfort with a charming grin and a shrug of his broad shoulders. “Naw, you can’t fight on the Fourth of July, it’s against the law.” He pulled her into a side hug, momentarily pressing his lips against the top of her head, the strands of hair sticking out from her haphazard top-knot tickling his nose. “Terrible hair,” he commented, his voice muffled by the hair in question. 

 

Joyce snorted. “At least mine isn’t slowly disappearing,” she teased. Jim gave her a playful little push as he pulled away, one hand clutching his heart as he gave an exaggerated gasp that made her snort, covering her mouth with one hand to mask her delighted smile. His heart exploded with fondness and something that burned a little bit more intensely. 

 

“You wound me. You know I’m holding onto my roguish good looks for dear life, and no one else has complained.”

 

A flash of something akin to hurt clouded Joyce’s large, doe-like eyes and caused a momentary droop in the corners of her mouth. “Oh. You could’ve brought a…” She took a deep shuddering breath as her lower lip twitched. Her next words were soft and incomprehensible. Jim furrowed his brow at the sudden change in temperature.

 

“Huh? Joyce I didn’t hear that last bit.”

 

“A date. You could’ve brought a date.”

 

Ah. He was an idiot. He raked a large hand through his hair as he chuckled nervously. “When I said no one else is complaining, I meant Flo and the kid. No one’s been beating down my door demanding a date and a follow-up phone call in quite some time.”

 

“Burned through ‘em all?” Joyce teased, biting her lower lip, color burning at the crests of her high cheekbones.

 

Jim shook his head. “No, not all,” he confessed softly. They were standing so close that her chest was nearly brushing against his midsection, and she had to crane her neck to look up at him with those wide, wise and searching eyes. He brought a bold hand to cup her cheek, his pinky brushing against a few wild tendrils of frizzy auburn as he gazed down at her. He wondered, momentarily, where the oxygen and the room had gone to before realizing that he was forgetting to breathe.

  
  


_ For once I can say  _

_ This is mine you can’t take it _

_ As long as I know I have love I can make it _

_ For once in my life I have someone who needs me (Someone who needs me) _

_ For once in my life (Someone who needs me) _

_ Somebody that needs me (Someone who needs me) Oh baby, for-- _

 

The radio cutting off caused both of them to rear back from their almost embrace as the sound of someone clearing their throat cut through the tension. “Mom, I realize that summer is Stevie Season but some of us need a little variety in… our music, sorry!” Jonathan was standing red-faced near the radio with Nancy at his side. The younger woman was wide-eyed and smirking at the older pair. 

 

“What on earth are you apologizing for? Hello, Nancy.” Joyce stepped forward and gave Nancy a warm hug before stepping back to admire her hair. “You look so grown up! When did you get it done?”

 

Nancy shrugged. “Yesterday. I’m still getting used to it… it’s just so big.” She brought a self-conscious hand to her short perm, her smirk becoming a shy smile.

 

“I love it. Perfect for your internship, right Hopper?”

 

Jim was rubbing a hand on the back of his neck and staring out the kitchen window at El, Max and the boys attempting to set up tents in the backyard, his head still swimming with what had very nearly occured. 

 

“It’s big,” he murmured. 

 

Nancy frowned. “Well, thanks. Your moustache is certainly a choice.” Her tone was terse. 

 

“Nance, let’s go fire up the grill.” Jonathan took his girlfriend by the hand and gently pulled her towards the back entrance. He turned and nodded. “Mom… Magnum. See you out back.”

 

Joyce laughed at Jonathan’s choice of nickname, but schooled her features under the heat of Jim’s glare. “What? Tom Selleck is hot - you should be flattered,” she teased, picking up a bowl of potato salad and following her son. She looked over her shoulder and gave Jim a little wink, and he swore she put some extra sway in her hips, as though knowing exactly where his attention was falling that particular day.

 

“I’m so screwed,” he muttered. 

  
  
  
  



	2. Superstition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan gets burned. Joyce gets silly.

“I thought the summer was for Stevie,” Karen Wheeler remarked as she frowned towards the radio, her enormous Audrey-as-Tiffany sunglasses sliding down her nose. She was reclining on a lawn chair, her skin glistening with tanning oil, her hand clutching a Mai Tai. “What is this?”

 

_ I would go out tonight  _

_ But I haven't got a stitch to wear  _

_ This man said "it's gruesome  _

_ That someone so handsome should care" _

 

“It’s The Smiths, Mom, and Jesus, cover up a little, would you?” Nancy grumbled, picking up the lacy white beach dress resting on the back of Karen’s chair and dropping it into her mother’s lap. Karen was wearing a one-piece and denim shorts - hardly a scandal, but things had become tense at the Wheeler home after Ted moved into an apartment across town

 

“Ugh, it’s so maudlin,” Leah Sinclair groaned from the croquet pitch, she was attempting to keep her daughter Erica well enough away from the older kids, in order to avoid World War Three. She was also trying to keep the child from using the mallet like a bat and launching the ball towards the canopy tent where her oldest and his friends (plus Steve Harrington?) were currently in the midst of a campaign. Her husband Peter was situated at the grill with Jim, Jane (or was it El now? Leah wasn’t sure, and she didn’t really like nicknames, especially when their origin was so confusing.) Maxine, and Claudia Henderson. 

 

“You get desensitized to it,” Joyce called from her station near the kiddie pool she was currently filling with water from the garden hose. “Plus, sometimes you learn things you missed from the news. For instance, did you know that Bela Lugosi’s dead?”

 

“Mom, I don’t even like Bauhaus, stop it,” Jonathan grumbled, covering his face with two hands as Joyce mumbled out a dreary parody, adding in verses when she was unsure of the lyrics. 

 

“Wah, wah, waaaah,” Jim teased, cracking open a beer before handing El a meat press. He affected an exaggerated and terrible English/Scottish hybrid accent and joined in with Joyce. “Me soul is so dark but I cannae find a color darker than black, wah, wah waaah.” 

 

Soon the adults were all joining in, adding onto what they imagined was the sort of music Jonathan listened to. 

 

“Me bat willnae take to it’s leash, boohoohoo…” Dustin crooned from beneath the canopy. Soon the air was filled with raucous laughter that drowned out the music floating into the backyard. Nancy frowned as she watched Jonathan grow red with embarrassment, but she visibly relaxed as he shrugged and covered his mouth to hide the grin that spread across his usually dour features. He crossed over to the canopy, and reached his hand into a large plastic bucket that lay, seemingly forgotten by the guests. He drew out a bright yellow water balloon and lobbed it in Joyce’s direction; she dodged it with a sharp laugh, but in doing so ended up stepping one foot into the plastic pool, slipping and falling in and landing on her side with a shallow ‘splash’. 

 

The entire party hit a standstill over what happened next: Joyce propped herself up by her elbows in the pool, and her shoulders shook with what could have either been laughter or pained tears; Jim abandoned his post at the grill and was at her side in a flash, kneeling in the grass and gently grabbing her shoulders so that he could scan her face for signs of discomfort. 

 

Joyce had been laughing, of course - in fact, she had the very worst case of the giggles. Tears rolled down her eyes as she snorted with mirth, grinning up at Jim’s open, panicked face. Something in his eyes stopped her laughter dead in its tracks and she felt a deeper blush creep from her collarbone to her hairline. Unbidden, her bottom lip jutted out ever-so-slightly as she got lost in his eyes and caught her breath.

 

“I’m good, Hop,” she finally managed to squeak out. 

 

“Are you sure?” He whispered.

 

“Mom, I am so sorry!” Jonathan called, crossing the lawn to the kiddie pool. 

 

Joyce pulled away from Jim so suddenly that fell forward, getting soaked from the top of his head to the middle of his torso. “Oh, geez Louise, Hopper, I’m so sorry - I’m fine Jonathan, really! - aww, fuck.” She helped a stunned Jim to his feet. “I think I have something that might fit while you wait for your shirt to dry, come on inside the house for a sec.” 

 

The entire party watched with matching rapt expressions as Joyce took Jim by the hand and led him through the backdoor. 

 

“Are they… ?”Peter trailed off after the door was closed, shooting a helpless look to his wife who shook her head with wide eyes. He turned his attention to Karen, who masking her sly grin by taking a long pull off her drink. 

 

“Practically,” Karen murmured.

 

“No they’re not!” Jonathan and Will protested in tandem.

 

“Not that I wouldn’t love to have… I mean…” Will stammered and cast a helpless look towards El.

 

“He’s in love with her,” El announced. 

 

“And she has a crush on him, at the very least,” Will added.

 

“No she doesn’t,” Jonathan insisted.

“You’re barely here, how would you even know?”

 

“Gross,” Mike muttered with a sour expression.

 

“Why?” El asked, walking towards the canopied area, Max followed her with arms crossed over her chest.

 

“Yeah, why? I think it’s cute,” the red-haired girl proclaimed. 

 

“They’re so… old.”

 

“Michael, you’re grounded.”

 

“What?!”

 

“Anyway, I’ll change the damn music,” Jonathan muttered as he headed towards the house. Before he could reach the door, however, the music changed abruptly. 

 

_ Very superstitious, writings on the wall _

_ Very superstitious, ladders bout' to fall _

_ Thirteen month old baby, broke the lookin' glass _

_ Seven years of bad luck, the good things in your past _

_ When you believe in things that you don't understand _

_ Then you suffer _

_ Superstition ain't the way… _

 

“Aha!” Joyce exclaimed as she dug through a dusty cardboard box in the back of her closet. She was wearing a bathrobe, her tank top and shorts in the dryer along with Jim’s t-shirt. She was pointedly avoiding looking towards the bare-chested man who was sitting on the edge of her bed, pretending not to feel the heat of his gaze on the back of her neck. 

“If it’s something that belonged to Lonnie, I’m just gonna go back to the party like this,” he grumbled. Joyce snuck a glance in his direction, and braved a saucy wink. 

“I’m not complaining, or anything, but this isn’t something that belonged to Lonnie.”

“Bob?”

“No.” Joyce’s negative was thin and strained, and when she stood, Jim noticed that some of the light in her eyes had dimmed ever-so-slightly, the corners of her mouth drooping. She handed him a lump of faded white cotton with an outstretched arm. Jim took it with an apologetic expression on his features, his guts twisting a bit. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean to bring down the… oh holy shit, no way.” Jim held the raglan style t-shirt in front of him. Big bubble letters spelled out Scoops Ahoy on the front. 

“I forgot to return it to you ages ago,” she stated, a shy little half-smile forming on her lips. 

“Is this the one that… ?” Words failed him. Way back, when he had been employed at the local ice cream stand, he had come to her house after a long shift and snuck in through her bedroom window. Her father’s arrival home had been so abrupt that Jim had driven home shirtless that night. It had been their first time together. 

“The very one. You’ve been trimming down so much that I think it just might fit.”

Jim grinned up at her, his cheeks burning. “Oh, so you’ve noticed?”

“Shut the fuck up and get out of here so I can get dressed.”


	3. Summer Soft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tease.

 

_ Morning rain _

_ Gently plays her rhythms on your window pane _

_ Giving you no clue of when she plans to change _

_ To bring rain or sunshine _

_ And so you wait to see what she'll do _

_ Is it sun or rain for you _

_ But it breaks your heart in two _

_ When you find it's October _

_ And she's gone _

_ And she's gone _

_ Summer's gone _

_ Taking with her summer's play _

  
  


“Something happened,” El Hopper murmured at the round plastic table she sat around with Max, Mike, Will, Lucas and Dustin as they group devoured their burgers.

“Huh?” Will inquired dazedly, his mouth quite full. 

“Stop that, you’ll choke,” El chided. “Between your mom and my dad. They’re avoiding each other, but not.” She nodded over towards the grill, where Jim was passing a plate of food to Joyce while simultaneously avoiding eye contact with her altogether. Joyce accepted the plate with a blush in her cheeks, her eyes cast downward and her mouth smiling. 

“I’d be weird around him too if I was Ms. Byers age. Chief’s gone all hot and muscled for an old guy,”  Max weighed in, before casting an apologetic look in Lucas’s horrified direction. 

“Gross!” The boys chorused. El just looked distinctly uncomfortable, her brow furrowed and her nose wrinkled. 

“Don’t call my dad hot ever again,” she pleaded, softly. 

____________

“I wonder where he got that shirt. It’s cool. Very vintage,” Nancy observed as she and Jonathan sat on the lawn, paper plates in their laps. 

“It’s… very tight,” Jonathan mumbled with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yeah, I noticed,” was Nancy’s slightly dreamy reply.

“Umm… excuse me?”

“What, I can’t think another man looks good? I mean, it’s a little weird because he’s going to be your stepdad--” Nancy was cut off when Jonathan poked her in the side. She let out a squeak that was punctuated with a snort as she started, dissolving into giggles when she upended her plate in the process.

“Shit, sorry, Nance.” Jonathan kissed her on the cheek as he began to scoop up her discarded food with a napkin. 

“It’s okay, but you have to get up and get me another plate.”

“He’s not… he’s not my stepdad.”

“Not yet.”

“Stop.”

__________

“Chief looks good.”

“Huh?” Joyce inquired sharply at Karen’s observation as she took a seat in the lawn chair to the right of her. Claudia and Leah exchanged knowing glances as they sat nearby. 

“Oh, don’t be dense, Joyce. I’m a married woman and I can admit having a new admiration for him. Look at those arms; he could break all of us in half like twigs,” Leah sighed. Jim was at the grill with Peter and Steve, and as sensing the ladies scrutinizing, all three glanced over. Claudia, Karen and Leah all gave charming little waves - more fingertips than whole hands - while Joyce ducked her head and looked away.

“High school hasn’t changed you at all, I see. I like the shirt you found for him, it reminds me of something you told me way back when after he-”

“Okay, Karen, that’s enough,” Joyce hissed. 

“I love a good history lesson,” Claudia giggled, her cheeks pink from pique and sangria. 

“Sorry to disappoint, I only pulled Cs in history,” Joyce replied saltily.

“That’s because you were pulling Ds beneath the bleachers during fifth and sixth period.”

“Karen!”

The other three women cackled like drunken hens as Joyce pulled herself to her feet and walked back into the house. “How about something with a little more energy?” she called from the kitchen window, desperate the change the subject.

“How about ‘Let’s Get it On’?” Leah teased, prompting another gale of laughter from the peanut section.

Joyce did not reply to the provocation, her mind was still on what had unfolded in her bedroom not fifteen minutes earlier.

_________

“Shut the fuck up and get out of here so I can get dressed.”

“You kiss your kids with that mouth, Horowitz?”

Joyce felt her blood turn to ice and than heat up once more at the word ‘kiss’. She was standing close to him as he sat on the edge of her bed, so close that she was practically between his knees as he looked up at her with his smart-ass, Hopperish grin - made all the more irresistibly roguish due to the fact that he hadn’t yet donned the shirt. 

“You’re such an ass,” she murmured, pulling her robe a little more tightly around her body. She shivered when she felt his big hands come to rest at her waist, and his grin turned into an amused half-smile when she didn’t slap them away. His expression darkened when she took a bold micro-step in his direction and cupped his cheek with a smooth, tremulous hand. 

“I am, I really am, but unless you’ve changed your mind about me leaving so you can get naked, you’re gonna have to move out of my way so I can give you privacy, darlin’.”

The air crackled and singed as Joyce’s world grew thick with possibilities at his words, and the open desire plain in his face. His usually clear eyes were dark beneath his furrowed brow, and he was biting his bottom lip as his gaze never left her face. She felt the growing stubble beneath her palm as she gently stroked his cheek, and idly wondered if he was growing his beard out once more; she knew for a fact that he was taking a lot of guff for it at work and-

“Fuck it,” she sighed, inclining her head and pulling his upwards so she could brush her lips against his. 

There was no gentle, exploratory interlude with a gradual build-up. Joyce’s first kiss was shy, hesitant, and featherlight - butterfly wings against a flower petal - Jim’s immediate response was an ignited powderkeg of hunger, need and pent-up frustration. His hands moved from her waist to cup her buttocks, pulling her onto his lap, and claiming her mouth almost brutishly. His strong lips coaxed her mouth open, and his tongue slid into home, while one large hand moved to cup the back of her head in a maneuver that anchored her to him as she shed her initial hesitation, licking into him with a vigor that left her trembling, and him groaning.

“Jesus,” he uttered when they parted for breath. Joyce’s bottom lip was tender, and she could still feel his nipping teeth as it pulsed and started to swell. “Did I hurt you?” he inquired, running the pad of his thumb along her bottom lip. 

Jim’s expression was half lust-drugged and half full of that achingly sweet concern that made Joyce both weak with fondness and burn with self-sufficient annoyance. Not knowing quite how to respond, she drew his thumb between her lips and suckled gently. She dimly registered him say something about ‘playing with fire’ before she found herself on her back, with him hovering over her and resting on his side, as not to press her beneath his considerable bulk, as his lips and teeth dragged behind her ear, and then along the side of her neck and his hands scorched a path down, over her breasts, ribs and tummy, coming to rest at the belt of her robe. 

“Please,” she urged when his hands and lips stilled, his eyes searching her face for permission to cross the unspoken threshold they had been dancing near for months (years?) now. He untied the belt, and opened her robe, looking down at her exposed flesh with awed reverence. She was nude, save for her blue cotton panties, which were dampened with a desire that crept to the crease in her thighs as his eyes burned. For a long while, he did nothing but stare, until she began to grow slightly uncomfortable. She placed a soothing hand on his upper-arm, and found the muscles beneath his smooth flesh to be tight as a drum. 

“Earth to Hopper,” she teased, biting her lower lip as she smiled nervously. 

“MOM TELL HOPPER THE BURGERS AREN’T GOING TO GRILL THEMSELVES!” 

The sound of her youngest, bellowing from the kitchen brought reality crashing down. They had a yard full of guests waiting for them in the yard. Some of those guests were their children. Their children, and their closest friends. As though coming to the same conclusion, Jim rolled onto his back and cursed. 

“Goddamn reality,” Joyce groaned as she sat up, her robe still open. She eyed up the laundry in the wicker chair across from her bed, stood and dropped the robe before grabbing a bright green, cotton sundress and tugging it over her head. The empire waist provided a little bit of structure, and made her feel less self-conscious about continuing the party bra-less. 

“Yeah.” Jim sounded dejected as he pulled the old t-shirt over his head, and Joyce wondered if he thought the interruption meant she had come to her senses about what they had been about to do. Years, and even months ago, she would’ve called it a bad idea. They were too old, too damaged, too mean, he was (had been) too much of a womanizer. But now… they were a proper family. They went to the movies, had regular dinners, were even planning a camping trip. 

“The guests will leave and the kids will go to sleep at some point, Hopper. Jonathan is staying at Nancy’s and everyone else is sleeping outside.” Her eyes fell to the floor as his expression turned from surly to astonished.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

__________

_ Music is a world within itself _

_ With a language we all understand _

_ With an equal opportunity _

_ For all to sing, dance and clap their hands _

_ But just because a record has a groove _

_ Don't make it in the groove _

_ But you can tell right away at letter A _

_ When the people start to move _

“This song, Mom? Really?” Jonathan groaned as Joyce came prancing down the back stairs, returning to the party with a bounce in her step. She grinned, and did a little twirl onto the lawn, the skirt of her dress haloing about her hips.

“You love this song,” she replied, walking up to him with a little shimmy in her shoulders. “You used to dance to it all the time in the kitchen with me and Will.”

“I like it, Joyce,” El chirped, running up to the woman and taking her hand so she could be twirled. Joyce had been slowly introducing El to her music catalogue, teaching her how to dance a bit along the way. Leah, Claudia and Karen soon joined, much to the embarrassment of their respective children., though Will reluctantly allowed his mother and his sort-of sister to pull him in. Joyce threw a glance over her shoulder at Jim, who was standing by the grill with a small smile on his face, his arms crossed over his chest. Peter bounded over to his wife, and pulled her attention away from her friends, to his goofy but skilled dance moves as they all sang along to Stevie Wonder's’ ode to Duke Ellington.  

Joyce sighed when Jim refused the crooking of her finger, and eventually walked over to him. 

“I don’t dance,” he lied.

“Oh really?”

“Not when standing by the grill is helping me mask the worst case of blue balls I’ve had since high school.”

Joyce swatted him on the chest. “Shhh! Someone will hear.”

He chuckled and kissed her on the forehead. “Not likely. You’ve got that music cranked to 11. You’re real mean, you know that? Shimmying around in front of me like you know you aren’t driving me crazy. I’d take you over behind the shed if the whole town wasn’t here at this very moment.”

The admission made her stomach drop and swoop - she had to bite the corners of her mouth to keep from grinning like a lovesick idiot. 

“Fine, don’t dance with me,” she sniffed, though her expression was playful.

“I won’t.”

“Fine.”

“Wish everyone would leave though.”

Joyce braved taking his hand in hers and squeezing. “Me too.”

The night soon set in, and the adults made their excuses. They were too tired, old and tipsy to enjoy the fireworks, but thanks so much Joyce for letting the kiddos stick around. Joyce, Nancy, Jonathan,  Max, El and the boys soon convened around the fire, sitting a safe distance away as Steve and Jim set up the private display in a clear spot on the lawn, curated for months from shady roadside stands. 

“Hey, Jonathan, why don’t you take over for me? I’m a little tired,” Jim suddenly complained before the show was set to start. The younger man shrugged and nodded, running over to the clearing as Jim walked over and took Joyce’s hand to lead her to the back steps, where they could still keep an eye on the kids and the fireworks display, but be afforded a little bit of night-darkened privacy. Joyce rested her head against his shoulder and smiled as he handed her a beer and opened a bottle for himself.


	4. I Just Called to Say I Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here be smut.

 

“They’re going to blow their arms off,” Joyce moaned. “Steve, put that down and step away from it!” Steve gave a start at the barked command, dropping both the mercifully unlit roman candle, and the lighter that had been a breathe away from igniting its fuse.

“Awww, Joy-Joy, let them be kids,” Jim muttered, pressing his lips against the side of her head. Her hair smelled like campfire, and green apple shampoo. He heard her sigh at the contact, and the feeling of her small body scooting closer against his side filled his chest with a pleasant warmth. He deeply regretted buying so many fireworks; it felt like Jonathan and Steve would be setting them off into eternity, or at least until Joyce was too exhausted for what Jim had planned for her after the kids retired for the evening - he was practically trembling with need and anticipation.

“You haven’t called me Joy-Joy since we were kids, Jimmy,” Joyce teased, moving one hand to his lap to squeeze the one that rested against his knee. He squeezed back, his thumb stroking the tender flesh that spanned the distance between her thumb and her forefinger. It was an age-old gesture of comfort between the two of them, originating decades ago when she had fallen from the top of the apple tree in his parents’ backyard, and she had tearfully begged him not to leave her to get help.

“Ugh, did you even call me ‘Jimmy’ back then?” His lips found the outer-shell of her ear, boldly grazing the sensitive flesh until she ducked her head against his chest, warding him off, but not discouraging contact altogether.

“Only when I wanted to give you guff about Chrissy Carpenter.” The corners of her mouth were still quirked upwards in a sly little smile, but he caught the flash of long-forgotten pain in her soulful eyes, spied the nervous way her front teeth worried at her plump lower lip. He kissed the tip of her nose, and then each cheek, causing them to glow visibly, even in the waning light.

“There was never anything between us until you went to prom with that…” he trailed off, feeling the stirrings of a fight rise up in his chest as she narrowed her eyes at him. “Let’s not start down that path,” he grumbled as the whistles and cracks of the fireworks died down, and the air began to reek and thicken with smoke.

“Dad, do we have any more?” El called over, her intense little face lit up by campfire flames that reflected in her large eyes.

Jim stood and shook his head, emphatically. “No, we don’t, kid. It’s time for you all to settle in for the night so Joyce doesn’t have to worry about the backyard burning down. You remember how to kill the fire, right?” El nodded, solemnly in response. “Good. Don’t let any of these knuckleheads do it for you.”

“Are you coming by to pick me up in the morning?”

Dead silence as Joyce and Jim exchanged nervous looks. Jim chuckled and ran a hand through his hair before holding up the beer. “The thing is, kid, I think I’m gonna crash here. It’s bad to drink and drive and I’m ashamed to say I’ve had more than a few.”

El’s eyes darted towards Will, and the pair shared a look that almost appeared knowing, but maybe it was just a trick of the light. Jim definitely detected a look, though. “Good,” she sighed. “Cops shouldn’t break the law.”

“ _Quis custodiet ipsos custodes_?” Dustin asked through a mouthful of s’mores. Lucas muttered disdainfully, covering his face with one hand.

“You are the worst.”

“I failed Spanish in High School, buddy. Anyway, Joyce, why don’t you show me where you keep the spare blankets so I can set up shop on the couch?” Jim had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the way Joyce’s eyebrows shot up at his request, how she rapidly blinked and gave the slightest exhale.

“Uh-huh.”

“I seriously doubt he’s going to sleep on the couch,” Dustin observed when the adults were gone.

“Dude, stop!”

“What? It’s really, really small.”

_________________

“Do you think they suspect something?” Joyce asked, as she placed a record onto the little Crosley player on top of her dresser. There was a bottle of red wine and two glasses off to one side of her, and Jim set to filling them as the fan in the window gave off a hypnotic whir.

Jim actually tutted her before handing her a glass. “Whatever do you mean? We’re just having an innocent little nightcap before I head off to the couch.” He gave a small smile as he recognized the song playing. “And maybe a little dancing.” He set his wine glass on the surface of the dresser and reached out to place one hand on her upper arm, pulling her towards him with a gentle tug. She shook her head and took a step back.

“You said you weren’t going to dance with me,” she reminded him with a half-smile, before gingerly sipping at her wine. “‘I don’t dance’, you said.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not going to try. Now come here and let me hold you close a little.” His voice was soft, and his command was edged with a low plea that shook her just as much as the drowsy, scrutinizing look in his eyes.

“Okay.”

_No April rain_

_No flowers bloom_

_No wedding Saturday within the month of June_

_But what it is, is something true_

_Made up of these three words that I must say to you_

_I just called to say I love you_

_I just called to say how much I care_

_I just called to say I love you_

_And I mean it from the bottom of my heart…_

 

“This song is so cheesy,” Jim murmured against his hair as they swayed. He had one hand on the small of her back, anchoring her to him, his other hand held hers to his chest. She was so small, her chin dug into his solar plexus as she looked up at him with a sad little smile on her face; there were unshed tears in her eyes and Jim immediately felt terrible for insulting the song.

“Hey, I’m sorry… Stevie is - well, he’s not my thing, but I know he’s yours. I’m sorry, Joyce.” He paused to press contrite little kisses against her forehead and the top of her head. She snuggled against his chest and made a vehement little motion before sniffling.

“No, it’s not that. I just haven’t slow danced since - you know - and I guess I didn’t even realize it was getting to me until you pointed it out.” Joyce took a step back and shrugged, her eyes glued to the floor. Jim felt all of his great expectations turn to dust, and the realization winded him, but he wasn’t about to take it out on someone who was clearly grieving.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve realized… it’s - it’s really too soon isn’t it? Jesus, I’m a pig.” When she looked up in astonishment, he could make out the slight swelling in her lower lip and the almost imperceptible bloom of red on the curve of her neck, near her jugular. The evidence of his brute need for her made him wish that the ground would just swallow him whole. Jim Hopper: Debaucher of Vulnerable Women.

“You’re not!” Joyce protested. “And it’s not too soon. Jesus, Hopper, I’ve wanted you for months, probably back when it was too soon, actually.” She raked a hand through her hair as the song started to die down, she strode over to the record player and switched it off, nervous energy fairly exploding from her diminutive frame. “And who puts a time frame on these things anyway? I was just having a moment because of the dancing… I’ve never done it like that with you, and the last person I… it was a moment. The moment is over, and I really, really don’t want you to treat me like I’m made out of glass anymore, so if you’re going to stand their and ‘Poor Joyce’ me, you can just go and sleep on the couch because I’ve had it up to here with ‘Poor Joyce’, do you hear me?” She was almost shouting by the end of her tirade; her shoulders were squared, her chin jutting out, and her hands clutched into fists as she scolded him with a furrowed brow.

“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered before closing the distance between them and pulling her up into his arms so he could consume a bit of her fire. Her arms were immediately thrown about his shoulder, her legs wrapped around his sides as they resumed at the same breakneck pace from earlier. He was certain she drew blood, with the vicious, hungry way she attacked his mouth. The world was tilting on its axis, but maybe it had needed the change.

They were on the bed, fumbling and tearing at clothes. He wanted nothing more than to rip the straps off her pretty green dress so he could worship at her absolutely perfect breasts, but she slapped his hand away.

“I like this dress,” she scolded before making the buttons fly off the front of his colorful button up as she tore it open.

“I like this shirt,” he groaned before latching his mouth onto her earlobe, nipping at it when she replied:

“I don’t.”

Rather than retaliate, he sat back on his haunches so she could pull the dress over her head and throw it safely to one corner of the room. His mouth went dry at the beauty before him. A million years ago, it had always been a bit of a joke in the locker room, Joyce Horowitz the little mouse and her Jayne Mansfield boobs. Jim had always been quick to shut that kind of talk down, but his teenaged brain had always echoed the sentiment in private. Here she was, a whisp of a woman with…

“You look like a pervy kid. Honestly, Jimmy, they’re just breasts.” His mind snapped back to the present, to the woman rolling her eyes at him.

“Shit… sorry. I think my brain is fried from the heat and, you know, the naked woman. I haven’t been with anyone since…” Since Will disappeared and you and your family became the still point in my universe, but especially you. Ugh. He hoped she couldn’t read minds. “It’s been years.”

Joyce gasped. “Oh.”

“Oh?” He finished kicking off his jeans and laid on his side, propping his head up with one hand as he gave her a scrutinizing look.

“I just… well, I guess that makes sense. This is a small town and people talk. I haven’t really heard about you and another woman since…” she bit her lip as realization dawned on her. “You could’ve said.”

Jim cupped her face, tracing her lower lip with his thumb. “And I would’ve. But first came the kid, and then came… well, you got busy too.”

Joyce wrinkled her nose before taking his hand in both of hers so she could kiss his rough palm. “We’ve always had shitty timing,” she murmured, bringing his hand to her stomach and tracing the deep lines with her forefinger.

“And now?” He asked with cautious optimism dripping from his tone.

“I think we’re at the ‘just right’ portion of the Goldilocks Effect. Don’t you?”

“Except this bed is too lumpy.”

“Shut up.”

With that, they were kissing again. They took it slower this time, as if both coming to the realization that they had time, so much time. This instance wasn’t some flash-in-the-pan, one and done sort of thing - it was a natural progression. Meant to be, if they were being completely soppy about it. They could enjoy each other, stretch the time out long into the night, rather than combust and flame out.

His large hands stroked a languid path from her hips to her ribs, circling her breasts without actually touching them as lips and tongues met and caressed. He had one leg trapped between her thighs, and he revelled in the gathering warmth at her center as she gently rocked against him.

“You’ve gotten so much better at this,”Joyce sighed when they parted for air. He responded by slipping a hand beneath her panties, one bold forefinger swiping at the dampness within her folds. He stopped short of clitoris, chuckling as she gasped and squirmed at the added contact. “And that,” she whimpered. He rewarded her for the compliment by swiping a circle around her clitoris with one soaked forefinger, teasing and manipulating the little bud as she whined and arched her back. He continued his torture as his lips found one aching nipple and drew it into his mouth, laving, suckling and blowing - all the while trying not to feel smug as her cries grew desperate. He pumped two fingers within her as his mouth gave the same attention to her other breast and then travelled a path down her abdomen.

“Can I?” He asked when he made his way to her pelvis, his hands moving to her thighs to open herself even more to his lust-fogged eyes. Joyce propped herself up on her elbows, her mouth dropping at the question, and for a moment, he thought she might squeak out a mortified ‘no’; however she nodded, placed one hand on the back of his head, tugging gently at his hair as she pushed him forward. He chuckled at her insistence, and then lost himself to the heady scent, and sweet taste of her center, licking into her with greedy abandon and a flat tongue. He was rewarded with a sharp cry, and the feeling of her other hand tangling in his hair as she lifted her hips and rocked against his face.

“Ah! Oh my god, Hopper…” she whimpered as his tip of his tongue swirled against her swollen clit. He added his fingers once more, pumping in earnest and earning a few sharp curses from her, albeit muffled. He could not see, so utterly gone in her taste was he, but he suspected that she was muffling her cries behind the hand that had released his hair. One day he was going to take her to a place where it was only the two of them for miles, so she’d be able to unselfconsciously fill the room with her beautiful little cries. He felt her contract around his fingers, tasted her release, as her thighs trembled beneath his palms. He gave her a few more strokes before kissing his way up her tummy, ribs, breasts, and neck, his cock twitching at how eagerly she licked into his mouth.

“Dirty,” he grunted as her tongue snaked out to catch the essence that clung to his chin.

“Mmmhmm…” Joyce cooed, pushing at his chest until he got the hint and rolled onto his back. She was still dizzy from crashing down from the great height he had brought her to, her breathing not quite regulated. He was magnificent, everything she had dreamed on all of those cold, sleepless nights when she had to do something, anything to escape the onslaught of dark, guilt-soaked thoughts that threatened to steal her sanity. He looked up at her with curiosity, devotion (and love?) as she leaned over him to get at the bedside drawer. “Better safe than sorry,” she explained, pulling a dark-foiled square from the drawer and ripping it open. Within moments, he was safely sheathed, and she was lowering herself onto his thick, fully erect cock. She grimaced a bit before her body stretched to accommodate.

“Don’t look so smug, big boy,” Joyce teased before placing one hand behind her, palm flat on his thigh, and the other on his shoulder. His hands gripped her hips when she squeezed her walls around his cock, wiping the self-satisfied look from his face and making him gasp. After a few fumbling, they found a rhythm that suited both their needs. Jim’s fingers were pressed into her hips in a strong grip that she knew was going to leave a mark, but she was beyond caring as she rolled and moved against him, hypnotized by his gruff panting and occasional groan as she quickened the pace and his upward thrusts caused a sharp, delicious ache low in her belly.

Her second orgasm came so sharp and quick that she nearly blacked out. One hand moved to her back as he urged her to relax against his chest, to let him continue on. She obeyed, quivering and near sobs against the curve of his shoulder before he flipped her onto her back and tossed her legs over his shoulders. Jim was a man possessed, and Joyce momentarily feared that they would break the bed in the midst of their frenzied coupling. For some reason, the thought hastened her next plateau.

“So fucking… so beautiful, Jesus, I’m gonna come…” Jim groaned before his pace became erratic and lost. He came in four sharp thrusts, gasping and grunting before collapsing at her side, in a tangle of limbs and sweat. Feeling an overwhelming surge of affection, Joyce turned so she could pepper his damp shoulders, neck, and cheeks with kisses. He pushed the hair from her face and guided her lips to his, kissing her long, slow, and deep.

“A woman could definitely get used to that,” Joyce finally admitted as he snuggled against her breasts.

I don’t ever want to leave, he wanted to say. Now I’m here, this is where I’m staying. “Oh yeah? We’d have to do other things, you know. Like feed the kids.”

Joyce snorted. “If you insist.” Her tone was dripping with drowsy sarcasm. She yawned and kissed the top of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs by Stevie Wonder that were referenced in this fic:
> 
> For Once in My Life  
> Superstitious  
> Summer Soft  
> Sir Duke  
> I Just Called to Say I Love You
> 
> And one The Smiths reference with This Charming Man.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
